


On Permanent Repeat

by sarken



Category: Third Watch
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Juvenilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-24
Updated: 2004-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith and Bosco discuss the physical and mental traumas that Faith suffered after "Monsters" and "The Price of Nobility."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Permanent Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> A certain coated chocolate girl said to me, "I feel a little like we're still hanging on the PON cliffhanger and aftermath as well, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing to keep hoping that -that- story isn't concluded either [...]" This takes place in season six, but deals with The Price of Nobility just as much as Monsters.

He added a fifth packet of artificial sweetener to his iced tea and swirled the straw around, clinking the ice cubes against the translucent brown plastic. He took a sip and cringed at the sweetness; the moment would have been less awkward had he ordered unsweetened tea. He tossed the lemon slice into the cup and pushed it across the table. "Are we going to talk?"

Faith wrapped her hand around the cup slick with condensation. When she took a sip, the sweetness did nothing to overpower the bitterness inside her. "Yeah." She ran her finger over the textured plastic. "Yeah. So -- yeah."

He stared at her staring at the table. "Do I have to guess?"

"What?" She looked up and her eyes focused on him for the first time.

"Do I have to guess what you want to talk about?" he asked, impatient. "'Cause if I do, I gotta tell you, we're going to be here a while."

"No," she said. "No. I -- I didn't want to sit here. Fred left me."

"Okay." He waited for her to connect those thoughts, and he waited to feel surprised. He waited and waited, but nothing. He slid out of the booth and stood, tossing a five dollar bill onto the table.

The sound of the paper hitting the table made Faith stiffen and snap. "Fred took the kids and left. He told me he found someone else, and he left me. He left me for good, right here, he left me. He threw the money on the table, it bounced, and he left."

Bosco stared at the money sitting on the table. He wanted to put it back in his pocket, hide the way he was like Fred, but he didn't want to draw attention to it. "We can leave, go to your place." He realized it would be worse, not better. "Someplace, not your place."

"We can go to my place," she said. "Not like Fred'll care. Can sit in his chair and everything."

\---

He didn't sit in Fred's chair; he sat next to her and they stared at the television's blank screen. The low rumble of New York at night could be heard. "And now?" he asked, turning to face her. "What's next?"

She shrugged, not looking at him. "I'm not worried about now; I'm still stuck on the past. He was cheating on me while I was paralyzed, while every loud noise sent me back to the hotel room." She stopped, listening to cars speeding, splashing through puddles. "You didn't know about that, did you?"

He shook his head, knowing she would feel the motion if not see it. No, he didn't know.

She forced a laugh, a quiet version of the laugh she gave before a fight with Cruz. "Yeah, it started the day I woke up. Fred dropped his Bible and it all happened again. Four shoots: bang. Bang. Bang, bang. I could feel the bullet again, which was why it took me so long to realize I couldn't feel anything. I could see you staring at me, I could hear you calling for help, I could feel your hand on my chest."

Neither said anything, and Faith's words echoed in the partially empty apartment.

I could feel your hand on my chest

I could feel your hand on my chest

I could feel --

"I could feel it, Bosco. I thought I could feel it, but I couldn't feel anything. I don't know when I stopped feeling, if I ever felt you or if it was all an illusion." Her hand went to her chest and she ran her fingers over the scar, back and forth, back and forth. "Did I move?"

He went back to the hotel suite. Faith lay on the floor, her eyes open and her body still and bleeding. He grabbed his radio and called in a 10-13, two officers down. He dropped to his knees on the blood-soaked carpet and tore open her uniform, searching for the wound, realizing he had gone from fabric to flesh with no Kevlar between.

"Boz, tell me. In the hotel, did I move?" She faced him, her knee touching his through denim. She saw his eyes and knew where he had just gone.

He shook his head. "No."

She frowned, her features seeming to draw inward. "I didn't feel it, then. I could swear I felt it." She sounded confused, disappointed. Just another phantom pain.

A car backfired and her eyes widened, taking on the same look as they had in the hotel room. Her hand pressed harder against the scar on her chest.

"10-13, 10-13. We have officers down. Repeat, two officers down."

Bosco wrapped his hand around hers and pulled it away, feeling her resist as she tried to apply pressure with what little strength she had. "Let me see, Faith. Yokas, let me see, damn it." He sat cross-legged and pulled her upper body onto his lap. His hand replaced hers and pressed against her chest. Tears streamed from her wide eyes as she stared upward, past his face.

"It's okay, Faith."


End file.
